


Fool’s Hope

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst, Brief suicidal ideation, F/F, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Wordcount: 100-1.000, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:03:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: Maybe if they’refriendsagain now, Peter and Mary Jane will manage to be more than that again later. (Or... maybe not.)





	Fool’s Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes when i have feelings i take them out on characters instead because it’s easier than processing emotions irl *shrug*

_We can be friends_ , MJ tells him with a smile, as though _friends_ can fix the grief that courses through him whenever he sees her face or hears her voice or inhales the scent of her stupid flowery perfume. _Can we try that?_

It gives him _hope_ , stupid, terrible hope that works as a patch for the hole in his heart, because maybe if they start off as _friends_ again, they can become something _more_ again, too. So he forces a smile back and hands her the flowers _as a gesture of friendship_ and he leaves, and he has to pretend he isn’t being torn apart as he walks away from their her house.

They get coffee together, _as friends_ , and MJ is nervous at the start and Peter is too, but he’s certain it’s for different reasons. She warms up quickly though, and every smile she graces him with sends shivers racing down his spine, _hope_ racing through his brain. He loves it and loathes it in one, because hope is _dangerous_ , and he doesn’t want it if there’s no chance for him, for _them,_ but it’s there anyways, because hope is _treacherous,_ too.

Weeks turn into months. They see each other for coffee, for lunch, with other friends that Peter forces himself to get to know again. They used to be _their_ friends, his and MJ’s, and most of them greet him with _concern_ or _happiness_ , like he isn’t the most hideous thing on the planet. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

He stays by MJ’s side during gatherings of larger groups, and she never seems to mind. When she fondly lays her hand over Peter’s arm during a dinner, he feels his chest _squeeze_ as hope consumes his traitorous heart. But… maybe, this means there’s a chance.

 ~~Never mind the way her gaze follows Robyn whenever the woman is in the room. Never mind the way she smiles that~~ ~~_smile_ at Robyn when they’re together. Never mind that Robyn and MJ have been best friends for more years than Peter and MJ were married. Never mind that MJ always talks about Robyn whenever she’s not around. Never mind it all.~~

It shouldn’t be a surprise when that god-damned _hope_ is dashed to the ground. It shouldn’t be a surprise when his heart is crushed, _again_ , and all he can do is watch. It shouldn’t be a surprise that _friends_ is all they are, all they’ll ever be.

Robyn is holding MJ’s hand when they announce that they’re a couple, and both women trip over each other’s sentences and giggle as they attempt to tell their friends. MJ’s cheeks are tinged pink, and Robyn’s dark hair is straightened from it’s usual wild curl. They look _beautiful,_ and it’s all Peter can do to smile weakly and congratulate MJ on finding _happiness_ before she gives him a relieved hug — _I’m so glad you’re taking this well, Pete—_ and leaves his side. For once, he doesn’t follow her.

The _hurt_ , the _isolating self-hatred_ , doesn’t hit him until later, when he’s alone in his apartment with some shitty-ass sad music playing from somewhere down the hall. He wishes he had the energy to march down the hall and tell his neighbours to shut it off. He wishes he had the energy to march down to ~~his~~ MJ’s house and tell her how much he _hates_ her for giving him _hope_ and then yanking it away so violently.

He wishes he had the energy to do _anything_ , but he doesn’t, so he sits in his shower and lets hot, scalding water wash easily over him. It washes away his _tears,_ treacherous, traitorous tears, and leaves him feeling so, so _empty._

He wonders how long it would take someone to find him if he drowned.

His phone goes off, and he reaches for it blindly, shoving his head out of the shower to read the message. _Glad you and Robyn are still getting along. You’re a good friend. 😘_

Peter throws his phone across the room as _hope_ settles in his chest again, and it’s all he can do to resist the urge to yell aloud at his own stupidity.

He doesn’t leave the shower until the water feels like ice, and even then, it takes a while for him to feel the cold on his already-numb skin.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry if you read this 
> 
> Kudos/comments are love//come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans


End file.
